


a little bit dangerous

by intoxicatelou



Category: Spies in Disguise
Genre: Begging, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Panties, Semi-Public Sex, Sexy Dancing, Slutty Walter, Touching, Walter Beckett is a Twink, Walter blushes A LOT, night club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/pseuds/intoxicatelou
Summary: Walter was dancing, eyes blissfully closed as his hips swayed to the music and Lance had never seen a prettier sight.
Relationships: Lance Sterling/Walter Beckett
Comments: 19
Kudos: 339





	a little bit dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> I turned myself on while writing this so I hope it does the same for you lol 
> 
> ~ Part two will have the sexy sex, and should be posted v. v. soon (tags will be updated accordingly) Shout out to the SiD-pro-twink-walter discord for being the loveliest group of people, this Twink Walter content is dedicated exclusively to all of you!!
> 
> title taken from Ariana Grande's "Into You" which I looped while writing this
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are always welcome !! srsly pls come yell in the comments below abt this ship which has like maybe four fics it will motivate me to write more porn more quickly ;)

Lance likes to dance. And not just when he’s taking out the bad guys. On the rare nights he isn’t playing spy, you could find him grooving away in almost any of the clubs downtown  — suit off and drink in hand. 

He had favorites of course, ones he liked to frequent more than others, especially if he’d somehow wrangled a weekend off. Tonight he decided to spend his well-earned Friday night at one of his top haunts, a dance club called Flash. It was always thrumming with good music and a good crowd to match, which is exactly what Lance needed tonight. . 

It was late July and Lance was in desperate need of a break  — Walter and him had spend the last three weeks taking down a group of domestic bioterrorists who had concocted a virus to essentially commit mass genocide and carry out their neonazi agenda. Lance had dealt with Kuwait war lords and the Japanese mafia but nothing made his blood boil like an American White Supremacist. However, under Walter’s new covert weapons initiative, there were no enemy casualties  — no matter how close to home their targets had hit. Even Walter hadn’t been shouting in glee at saving the day with his Kitty Glitter 2.0 which had effects that lasted twice as long as the original compound. Their enemies had delivered a lengthy hateful speech, broadcasting it on all major news channels before Walter and Lance had intercepted their headquarters and shut them down. 

Safe to say, Lance wanted to relax and not think about anything remotely related to the crippling political climate because of a certain president (hard to do while living in DC) and/or neonazis. He was already two martinis in (sue him, it’d been a rough couple weeks) and was about to order a whiskey on the rocks when he first saw  _ him.  _

Lance couldn’t believe it at first, mostly because he doesn’t want to confront how the sight of that tight ass trapped in those skinny jean shorts makes his mouth water. Or how the white crop top hangs off a slender, but lean frame that Lance had all but memorized because of the stealth suits they have to wear for work sometimes. 

Walter was dancing, eyes blissfully closed as his hips swayed to the music and Lance had never seen a prettier sight. 

He knew he should probably say something, but he couldn’t move. Instead he brought the whiskey to his lips and took a large sip, grateful for its sharp burn. Lance had always admired Walter for a multitude of reasons. He was a brilliant scientist and even though he’d only recently been authorized for field-work on select high priority missions, a quick-learner when it came to espionage. They’d had a rocky start to their relationship, considering that Walter had accidentally turned him into a pigeon the first time they’d really talked but after their first impromptu mission together, a mission where Walter refused to leave Lance’s side and saved his life more than a couple times, they’d been inseparable at the Agency. Marcy always joked that they were work husbands and Lance couldn’t exactly fault her. He’d seen Walter almost every hour for the last three weeks while they’d been hunkering down on the neonazi bioterrorist mission. In fact, Lance had woken up today in his own bed feeling strange that he couldn’t just turn over and see Walter’s sleeping form across the room or hear Lovey’s chirps to start off the morning. 

And now, somehow, Walter was  _ here _ , shaking his barely clothed ass to some pop song by some artist whose name Lance couldn’t bother learning but apparently Walter  _ loved,  _ if based on how he was mouthing along to the lyrics. 

_ A little bit dangerous, but baby, that's how I want it _

_ A little less conversation, and a little more touch my body _

Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him  —  lost in the way the red-blue-purple-green lights shined off of Walter’s collarbones and the hypnotizing twist of his hips. Lance felt delirious noticing how Walter was slightly taller than usual because he was wearing heeled platform boots or how he was running a hand through his slightly sweaty curls or how his mouth was now slightly open as he stared directly at Lance and his now-empty drink. 

_ Fuck.  _ Lance hesitated for a second, but decided to give Walter the benefit of doubt and smirked while placing his empty glass down at the bar. Walter, across the dancefloor,  _ blushed  _ but to Lance’s amazement, didn’t stop dancing. 

And like hell, if Lance was going to say no such a clear invitation. The panic, the conversation, that was for later, but right now, Lance just wanted to dance with this pretty boy. 

After placing his drink down, Lance walked up to Walter, adding an extra sway to his hips,which based on the way Walter’s eyes dipped, didn’t go unnoticed. He didn’t hesitate pulling Walter’s frame against him, feeling the warmth of Walter’s back against his chest. 

Walter let out a soft, “Hi, Lance” before grinding back  _ hard  _ against Lance’s thigh. Lance’s fingers tightened where they were holding onto Walter’s hips, his thumb brushing against the smooth uncovered skin (god bless crop tops). 

“Jesus, Walter” Lance huffed, but didn’t back down from the challenge, and moved his hips so that Walter was definitely brushing up against his half hard dick as he danced. Walter let out a little groan as he noticed how Lance was moving, and Lance couldn’t help himself but lean down to whisper in Walter’s ear, “You’re such a good dancer, baby.” 

Walter blushed, and up close, Lance could see that Walter was also wearing make-up. Lance bit his own lip as he noticed how glossy Walter’s mouth is, drunk on his long mascara lashes and glitter cheekbones. “ _ Lance _ , you’re staring.” Walter said after a moment. 

“Can you blame me, Walter? You’re fucking beautiful. I’d take a picture but baby, I know it wouldn’t compare to the real thing.” Lance whispered, and he knew it was cheesy and cliche but it was worth it for the way Walter blushed pretty again and grinded his ass filthy against Lance’s more than interested dick.

They danced like that, lost in the music, not talking with their voices as much as their bodies, aside from the occasional compliment Lance couldn’t help but throwing at Walter just to see him blush. Walter’s arm eventually crept up to wrap around Lance’s neck and Lance’s palm snuck under Walter’s crop top, occasionally brushing against Walter’s nipples. 

By the time the music started slowing down to a more sexy, sultier set, Lance was hard, his dick pressing uncomfortably against the material of his jeans. His hands were all but mapping Walter’s body, the crop-top all but forgotten in Lance’s ministrations. Walter was swaying to the beat, his eyes lidded from where he looked at Lance, groaning softly everytime Lance’s fingers brushed his nipples, 

Lance wanted to kiss him, more than anything — wanted to turn him around and feel how hard Walter was from this against his thigh. Almost as he’d had the thought, his fingers brushed against Walter’s nipples again, going so far as pinching slightly this time. Walter’s bright blue eyes flew open and he froze, staring at Lance, before responding in a wrecked voice, “Lance, _please._ ” 

Lance held nothing back when he finally kissed Walter. God, he wanted to ruin that mouth if it was the last thing he did and so he kissed him, slow but deep, nipping at Walter’s lower lip, lost in the sweet taste of cherry lip gloss. The younger boy moaned into his mouth at the sensation, turning in Lance’s arms so he could finally feel how hard Walter was. Hell, as Lance’s palm dipped down in between them to cup Walter through his obscenely tiny jean shorts, he noticed there was a slight wet spot blooming through the fabric.

“Fuck, how are you leaking through your shorts, baby?” Lance asked, turned on but genuinely curious as he leaned and pressed open mouthed kisses to Walter’s neck. 

“Oh, god  —  well it’s probably because this fabric is pretty thin  —  and I’m just wearing panties so  — “ Walter rambled, in between soft moans. 

“You’re better than a dream, Walter.” Lance groaned, his fingers slipping into the inside of Walter’s shorts and sure enough he could feel wet  _ lace.  _ “God, your panties are so wet right now, baby” 

Lance’s fingers ghosted over the tip of Walter’s cock and Walter moaned his name, loud enough that a few nearby dancers glanced their way. Lance quickly retracted his hand, much to Walter’s dismay, even though it had been one of the hottest things he’d ever seen his life. 

“The things I want to do to you…” Lance groaned, grabbing a handful of Walter’s ass and pulling his hips tight against his own clothed erection. Walter whined at the contact, pressing a dirty open-mouthed kiss to Lance’s mouth. 

“Then do them,” Walter whispered, against Lance’s lips. “Please, sir,  _ do anything.  _ Touch me, push me to my knees, fuck me till I can’t stand again.” He blushed, and Lance’s eyes widened as he heard the filthy things falling from Walter’s mouth, things he’d only dreamed of hearing the other man saying to him. “I want you so bad, Lance.  _ Please. _ ” 

Walter looked up at Lance through his lashes and Lance  — Lance knew he was done for. 

  
  



End file.
